Two weeks ago...

Two weeks ago today we were gathered in Gunga's house. In the wee hours of Monday morning, I wrote the following email to some friends to let them know what was going on...

It’s 1:30am. My sisters and I are all sleeping in my Mom’s bedroom. Under other circumstances this would be a really fun slumber party. But I am sitting next to my Mommy’s side, listening to her labored breathing as she prepares to leave this world. Her death is imminent. It could be hours or days. But we don’t even have the 2-6 months we were thinking we had a week ago. Despite 9 months of knowing she had terminal cancer, we were fully unprepared for it to go this fast at the end.

We went to the doctor this past Wednesday and he told that she had to stop chemo. She had already decided she was done fighting and we all knew she was losing strength. He said her body was shutting down. What we thought were side effects from the chemo actually were signs of her liver and kidneys shutting down. Georgie and I were with her on Thursday as we had the first meeting with Hospice. I left to go back to Lincoln thinking we would return one day later. But in the early morning hours, everything changed. It was like her body crashed. She went to “sleep” (which we were thankful for because she hadn’t truly slept in many days), and she hasn’t really woken up.

During that middle of the night time, she told my sister Georgie that she knew she was dying. Not just sometime in the next few months, but that it was imminent. She knew it. I believe God Himself told her. She said she had no fear. She and Georgie had a sweet time praying and talking together. And, though she was much more limited, she made sure she connected with each one of us who weren’t here before the crash. She opened her eyes to look at Amy and Carrie when they each arrived and told them she loved them. She did the same with me and since I was on the bed with her, my head near her waist, she lifted her hand up to cradle my face in it. I will hold onto that moment for the rest of my life. The look in her eyes was unmistakable: pure love. We didn’t know at the time that this would be the last connection each of us would have with our Mommy. But we do know that she must have mustered every bit of her strength to give us each that gift of love.

She has been basically unresponsive since then. All the family, except one grandson (who is on a Mission trip) is gathered. We are going through old letters, photos, and mementos as we read them to her. There have been lots of tears, though plenty of laughter too.

I know that my Mommy is being called by Jesus. I know she will go to Him. I know she won’t look back. But I have to be honest, this pain is excruciating. She has lived a long and full life. She has given me more love than a child could ever hope to have, but I do not want to see her go. I wish that I could have expressed more that we were “saving” for the months we thought would have of final preparations and goodbyes. And yet, I am thankful that we are a family who expressed our love every day. There really isn’t anything left unsaid. The things I wanted to communicate to her and what she would have communicated to me have been said over and over throughout the years.

I know I should get some sleep, but I am feel like I need to take my last opportunity to look at her beautiful face. Though it is hard to see her like this, and hear this ragged breathing, it is the last time I will see or hear them. For now anyway, and so here I sit.

Please pray for her to continue to be without pain and at peace. Though she is resting comfortably in general, there are times that she is disturbed and it is so hard to see her like that. Pray for us as we care for her. We only met with Hospice once and weren’t fully prepared for the duties that the weekend has been filled with. There is a lot of confusion and second-guessing ourselves. Pray for the kids who are in the house and not quite sure what to do. Jack and Tate have seen her, but it is quite disturbing to them. Emmie has grown more comfortable with coming into her room. On Wednesday of this past week, my kids wrote her letters. I am so glad that they were able to communicate their love and concern while she was still conscious. But there still is very little closure for them. And there will be a gaping hole in all of our lives.

Thanks for walking with me along the journey of the past 9 months of dealing with my Mom having cancer. Most of that time I have been able to focus on being grateful that I get to have her as my Mom and that she is still around. Now we have a new reality as her death is staring us in the face. I still want to be grateful, even as my heart is breaking.

That was finished just 5 hours before my Mom died. And now she has been gone from us for two weeks. I think I will look back on these weeks and realize that I have lived in a fog. But I am indeed grateful. Grateful for the Mommy that I had. Grateful that the end went quickly for her. Grateful for a God who is real. Grateful for the overwhelming displays of love and kindness from friends near and far. And I am grateful for my three sisters. I noticed an immediate change in our relationships with each other. We have always been close, but suddenly we became more motherly with one another. None of us could be all that my Mommy was, but we each have bits of her that we can offer each other. And that is a precious gift that we can uniquely offer each other.

Then...

(Wearing old gowns of my Mother's on New Years Eve sometime in the 80's)

And especially now...

(At my Mother's memorial service with a dear family friend)

I have no idea what I would do without my sisters!